Nine Lives
by Angel's Star
Summary: This was not supposed to happen. If she had not been called in to work that day, she would still be safe. She would not have endured some of the most terrifying events of her life, but neither would she have met the most interesting man of her life.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: My first Dark Knight story! Yeah! I'm so excited.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight, but I do own Camille and Jason.

Chapter 1

She was putting on her makeup, the finishing touches of mascara, when the phone rang. She quickly recapped the tube of makeup and hurried out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and into the main room of her apartment. She grabbed the telephone off the receiver on the wall and answered with a perky, "Hello, Camille speaking."

"Camille, hi, it's Ben," came the masculine voice over the line.

Her upbeat attitude dropped at the sound of her boss's name. "Hi."

"I know it's your day off, but Joyce called in sick this morning and we need you down here," he went on, sounding like he truly regretted calling her in.

She pursed her pink lips in disappointment. "All right. That's fine. I'll be there as soon as I can."

She hung up the cream colored phone and leaned against the wall next to it. Part of her wanted to scream in aggravation and another part wanted to cry. Absentmindedly, she twirled the phone cord around her finger. Finally, she bit her lip, picked up the phone again, and dialed.

It rang once. Twice. On the third ring a male voice answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jason," she said sweetly, a bit of a smile on her lips.

"Hey, honey, everything ok?" He asked.

"Yeah, Ben just called," she said with a sigh. "I've got to work today."

He paused. "So lunch is off then."

"I guess so," she said, lifting her green eyes to the window above the kitchen sink. "Maybe we can still do supper?"

"That's fine with me," he replied. "I'll pick you up around seven."

"Ok," she smiled, not as upset as she had been before. "Love you."

"I love you too."

She hung up the phone and made her way back through her apartment. It was small with a small kitchen, one bedroom, and one bathroom. But it was large enough for her. It had not been too expensive, considering it was a nice apartment- nicer after she had decorated it. She had wanted a place further from The Narrows and other dangerous areas of Gotham but this was the most she could afford now. Much to her relief, she had never had much trouble with crime, at least not compared to the rest of Gotham. Occasionally, a thief hoping to hit the big time would come trying to find something of worth. The most she had ever lost was her television set when she forgot to lock her front door.

She made it a point to never go anywhere alone at night. That was why Jason, her boyfriend of two years, always came and picked her up on their dates and always walked her up to her apartment. The fear of robbery and crime always lingered in the back of the citizens of Gotham's minds. She had been terrified the first few weeks living there after she had graduated from college, but after nothing really eventful happened, her nerves settled. All that remained was due caution and it served her well.

With reluctance, she changed into a black pencil skirt and a blue empire-waist shirt. Slightly uncomfortable, but it was professional and her job demanded it. She grabbed up her purse and slipped her cell phone into her jacket pocket and headed out the door. The sound of her black heels was softened considerably by the carpeted hallway. Her mouth was turned down and she walked with determination, just wanting to get the day of work over with. She mentally made a note to herself that either Joyce or her boss owed her a day off.

_Not like that's going to happen anyway,_ came the mental reprimand. She rolled her eyes at it and hurried down the three flights of stairs between her and the ground floor.

As she exited the building, a stiff breeze tried to jerk her jacket off her body. She shivered and pulled it tightly around herself. This October had been chillier than normal. For a second, she considered going back up to her apartment and getting a heavier jacket, but threw out the idea at the thought of tackling the stairs again.

Clutching her purse and jacket closely to her, she stepped to the edge of the curb and waved a hand. The taxi driver drove past without a second glance. She glared after him, but stuck her hand out again. The second driver came to a stop and she jumped in.

"Gotham Union Bank, please," she recited and settled back in the seat.

"Right away," the driver responded and pulled back out onto the road.

Camille stared out the window and rested her chin on her fist. Homeless people wandered the streets and stared out of the allies at her as she rode by. It made her feel guilty just looking at them, but also scared her when they met her gaze. Some seemed so desperate. Just wanting food, shelter, anything.

Suddenly a man tapped on the window with a tin cup and she jumped. He pointed down into it with a dirty finger.

"Hey, get out of here!" The cab driver shouted and shook his fist.

Camille quickly locked the door and slid to the other side of the car. She looked out the front window to see why they had stopped. The traffic light shone red. Sighing and glancing back quickly at the homeless man who was now wandering down the street, she hoped the light would change soon. This area, although not near as bad as The Narrows, still made her nervous. If she had a chance, she would move into one of the nicer areas of the city. Somewhere away from the grit, criminals, and homeless people. Jason had a nice apartment in a better area of the city. She would eventually be there with him, whenever he proposed and they got married.

"Alright, lady, that'll be twenty," the taxi driver said in his obnoxious voice and held a hand back.

Camille jumped out of her thoughts at the sound of his voice. Glancing around, she saw that they really were at their destination. She fumbled through her wallet, gave him the amount owed, and got out. The bank was very large with cement steps leading up to the doors, practically the whole front wall made of glass, and big, white columns holding up fine architecture. It was a mixture of modern and old- very familiar to her.

She strode up the stairs as she had done many times before and entered through the glass doors. Several people were standing in the vast telling area, either waiting in line or writing out a check to be cashed. She hurried around them, entered behind the desk, and took her place at her regular station. Setting her purse down on the counter behind her and removing her jacket, she saw that her computer was already running. She glanced down a few empty stations at Hayden and smiled a quick thank you. The other woman smiled back.

The entire morning, Camille was busy cashing checks, withdrawing, and depositing money. Absently, she wondered exactly how much money had passed through her hands in her five years working there. A lot, no doubt. Many rich people stored their money there, including the billionaire, Bruce Wayne. She had never met him, but had dealt with his accountants many times in the past. She had handled his accounts before as well and supposed he thought he had better things to do than worry over the payment of his employees.

When the morning rush finally ended, Hayden left her station and scurried down to Camille's station. She looked eager to share something.

"Did you read the newspaper this morning?"

"No, why?" Camille answered and sat down on a stool, giving her aching feet a break.

"The Joker escaped from Arkham Asylum last night," she practically whispered, her blue eyes frantically searching her co-worker's face for a response.

Camille's eyes widened and her eyebrows rose. "Are you serious?"

The other woman nodded and pulled a neighboring stool closer. "Yeah, the article said three guards there were killed."

Camille shifted uneasily in her seat. "Well, even if he did escape, he'll lay low for a while, don't you think?"

"Not a man like that!" Ray, a man in the station to their right, exclaimed and turned to them. "He's insane, you know. He'll go out and do something big either today or tomorrow. I'll bet this month's pay on it!"

"You're that sure he will?" Hayden asked and leaned forward nervously.

He nodded and crossed his arms as if he were an expert on psychological disorders rather than a bank teller. "Yup, he's insane."

"So you've said," Camille replied and rolled her eyes on the whole subject. "Even if the Joker does do something to get attention, the chances that he'd do that here are very slim. So lets drop it, alright? He creeps me out…"

"I never said he'd rob _our_ bank," Hayden nervously twisted a strand of blonde hair around a finger.

"But you were thinking it," Camille replied knowingly and got up off the stool. "If you two want to scare each other, go ahead. I live alone, so I'd much rather not worry about the Joker being in my apartment when I get home." At the mere mention of the idea, a chill went down her spine.

"Now _that's_ a scary thought," Hayden said and got up off her stool as well. "Do you need to stay with me and Jerry tonight?"

Camille gave her friend and coworker a kind smile. "Thanks, but no. I'm a big girl, you know."

"He's probably not even near your area," Ray said, now trying to backtrack from what he said earlier.

"Thank you, Ray," Hayden said condescendingly. Then added in her normal voice, "If the Joker's got to be in Camille's apartment, I'm sure she'd rather not be there while he is."

"Hush!" Camille hissed to them and nodded her head towards someone walking up to them. "Someone's coming."

Hayden glanced up and hurried back to her station. The man walked to Ray's station, so Camille sauntered over to her friend's station to complete their conversation.

"You honestly don't think the Joker will be in the area, do you?" Camille asked quietly, glancing behind her friend at the other tellers attending to business.

"No," Hayden laughed. "That's just Ray. You know how he always acts like he knows every-"

Suddenly there was a yelp and the sound of a stool being scraped back across the tile floor. The two women looked back at Ray's station and sudden fear gathered in the pit of their stomachs. The man, who had looked like an ordinary costumer, was pointing a gun at a terrified Ray.

Hayden screamed along with several other people around her who suddenly realized what was happening. The man jerked his gun towards them and backed up slightly. "Put your hands up! I want to see your hands! _Now!"_

Everybody complied immediately, keeping their eyes on the loaded weapon. The man eyed them all quickly before shoving the gun back in Ray's direction. Camille quickly slid her foot forward and stepped on the silent alarm. Suddenly a gunshot echoed throughout the large room. More screams followed. The man holding the gun fell to the floor.

Camille was about to open her mouth to speak when a slow, sinister laugh began reverberating off the walls. Nobody moved. Eyes darted around nervously, trying to find the source of the noise. Then he came into view. He walked out from beside one of the offices, where he would have had plain view of the whole scene. Purple suit, tattered green vest, dirty, matted blondish hair. White face, black eyes, evil, bright red grin plastered permanently on his face. The Joker.

Men in clown masks rushed around him on either side, each holding a gun. They quickly surrounded the group of employees and costumers and began jerking the tellers out from behind the long desk.

Camille squealed as one man jerked Hayden over the desk and onto the hard, tile floor below. Her eyes darted around for some means of escape, but the man grabbed her by the arm and jerked her forward as well. She caught herself just before her face hit the floor and remained in a kneeling position, too afraid to move.

"Looks like someone tried to beat us to the job," the Joker said with a laugh as he kicked the corpse. Camille glanced over, trying to keep from screaming. In his gloved hand, he held a knife which he flicked in and out with his thumb, almost unconsciously. He looked away from the corpse and their eyes met for a second. Instantly she looked back down, afraid he would kill her now for looking at him. He did not have to have a reason to kill.

"Tie their hands," he ordered. His footsteps drew nearer.

Camille kept her eyes glued to floor and her trembling fists clenched. If she were standing, her knees would feel weak. She could see his shoes out from under her brown bangs. They stopped in front of her. Suddenly his hand grabbed her chin and jerked her face upwards. She squealed, but managed to cut it off.

He was kneeling in front of her, a twisted smile on his face. His dark eyes pierced through hers, just causing her tremble even more. "Are you scared?"

Her lips trembled as she tried to answer, but no words would come.

"Answer me!" He shouted in her face.

"Yes!" She exclaimed almost in the same instant, flinching at the sudden increase in volume.

That same twisted smile reappeared on his face and he said in his normal voice, "You shouldn't be scared. You want to know why?"

She nodded shakily, afraid to have him yell at her again.

"Because you seem interested in what's going on," he said, snickering a bit as if it were a joke. "So I'm going to let you open the vault for us."

Then, laughing out loud, he stood and looked around at his men's handiwork. Seeming pleased, he pointed his knife at a couple of them and said, "You two stay here. The rest, come with me."

He grabbed Camille by the arm and jerked her to her feet. She stumbled, caught herself, then was pushed forward towards the door leading to the stairs. A few of the Joker's men scurried on in front of them, guns drawn as if there were some kind of threat behind the door. They reached the door and one of the men opened it and Camille was shoved in first. It suddenly dawned on her that they did not need her to open the vault. They were using her for security.

She stumbled onwards, mentally praying that the security guards were asleep or out to lunch or something. A couple of the men ran ahead again to the corner and glanced down the stairs. Apparently satisfied that it was clear, they poked at her with their guns and she hurriedly led them down. At the bottom of the stairs was a steel door with a green touch pad next to it.

One of the men looked down at it then said a little louder than necessary. "It's a fingerprint recognizer!"

"It's a good thing we have you around," the Joker replied sarcastically and grabbed Camille's right hand. "Which finger, doll face?"

She gulped, eyeing the knife in his hand and afraid he would cut off the finger. "I-index finger."

He jerked her forward by her hand and smashed her finger into the screen. A dim, green light appeared under her finger and the door swung open silently. Again, she was pushed in first and they followed.

"Pick up the pace!" One of the men ordered and prodded her with his gun.

She yelped and jumped slightly, but obeyed. They reached another corner and she was pushed around it first once more. The two security guards who were stationed outside the vault looked up and began reaching for their guns.

"Everything ok, Ms. Houghman?" One asked uncertainly.

She bit her lip and silently prayed they would surrender at the sight of her captors. At that instant, the Joker and his men came rushing around the corner, guns firing. She dropped to the floor and covered her head, hoping against all reality that this was just a dream and she would wake up soon. Then all went silent. She hesitantly uncovered her head and glanced behind her. All but one of Joker's men were still standing. She knew the guards had not made it through the fight.

She felt a strong grip on her arm again and was easily hauled to her feet and pushed forward. She almost fell, but managed to catch herself and continue leading them to the vault.

"Somebody's done this before!" The Joker stated with a snicker. He obviously found the entire situation funny.

Camille glanced down and immediately wished she had not. The crumpled bodies of the guards lay in little pools of blood. She drew her eyes up and stepped over the men. Then, with practiced actions, she opened the vault as she had done many times before. It swung open quietly and the men went flooding in except for one who stood with his gun shoved into her back.

Then the sound she never thought she would be thankful for reached her ears. It started off quietly then grew in volume as it drew nearer. Police. A smile of relief spread itself across her lips. Rescue from this nightmare was almost there!

Suddenly the Joker paused and listened. The other men noticed and hesitated as well. Then they heard what he heard.

"Get the bags," the Joker ordered quickly and hurried out of the vault. The three remaining in the vault quickly finished filling the bags, closed them, and ran out after him. The Joker grabbed Camille's arm and began shoving her back the way they had come. She stumbled along, trying to keep her balance in the two inch heels she had stupidly decided to wear that day.

They reached the top of the stairs and met up with the two men who had stayed in the lobby with the hostages.

"The police are here!" One exclaimed and gestured back over his shoulder with his gun. "They're all out front."

"Well, doll face, it seems you've become our insurance policy," the Joker said to her and began prodding her along down another hallway.

The red exit sign at the end of the hall shone brightly over the door. Camille only hoped the police would have sealed off that exit as well. One of the men pushed open the door and then pushed her out after it. Her feet never reached the two stairs below the door. Instead, she crashed onto the dirty, wet cement below, ripping off the skin on her knees and tearing holes on the elbows of her shirt. The Joker and his men came rushing out after her. One grabbed her by her neck and forced her to run along beside him while doubled over.

One man jumped in the driver's seat of a dirty grey van that was parked at the entrance of the ally. A couple more men piled in the back. Suddenly shots rang out around them. The Joker and two men left standing outside the van scurried around to the front of it for protection, pulling Camille with them.

"Let me see your hands!" A couple police men were screaming from outside the ally.

The Joker quickly grabbed Camille around the waist, turned her around so she was not facing him, and put a knife close to her throat. She screamed and he did not stop her, apparently wanting to alert the police to the fact that he had a hostage. He suddenly stepped out from in front of the van and she squealed again.

"Hold your fire!" One police shouted out.

"He's got a hostage!" Another one cried.

Camille desperately wanted to scream for help, but now the blade's razor sharp edge was poking uncomfortably hard into her skin. She feared if she spoke, it would easily slit her throat.

"If anyone tries to follow us, the girl is dead," the Joker shouted and jumped in the van then dragged Camille in after him. The two men remaining outside hurried in as well and pulled the door shut. Camille found herself being pushed and shoved until she was in the very back of the van. The driver started the engine and the van jerked to a quick start. The police sirens sounded again and she knew they were giving chase.

"I love a good car chase!" The Joker exclaimed and jerked the man out of the front passenger seat. He plopped down in the seat, rolled down the window and dropped something out. At that moment, the driver sped up and swerved out into the street.

Camille found herself being flung to the other side of the back of the van. An explosion sounded in the ally quickly followed by one more. She pulled herself to her knees and peered out the back window. Black smoke rolled out the ally, but out of it, a couple polices cars came rushing forward. She grinned from pure joy at the hope of being rescued.

The Joker was laughing. She turned to see him leaning partially out the window holding a gun. He fired. The bullet hit one car square in the windshield, shattering it completely. The car swerved and hit a light post. The second car moved over to the other side of the van. Another shot, this time from the driver. The police car retreated back several feet directly behind them.

Suddenly, the van swerved around a corner, half of it jumping up on the curb. Camille's knees left the floor of the van then jumped on them again as the van dropped off. She groaned in pain and rolled onto her side, her hands clutching her bleeding knees. There was another explosion behind them. Her eyes widened and she scrambled back to her knees, disregarding the pain. The final police car was careening down the wrong side of the street, blazing with fire.

"No…" she whispered and shook her head. Gulping back the fear, she sat back and stared up at the blood she had smeared under the window. She just knew there would be more bloodshed. Specifically hers.

The men behind her were laughing and muttering amongst themselves. Their haul was not large, but the destruction seemed to please them. She glanced behind her to see no one was looking back at her. She bit her lip and pulled off her shoes and reached for one of the door handles to the back door. Slowly, she began turning it, but it stopped. She let it reset itself and turned it again more quickly. It was locked. Now frantic, she jerked at it, smearing blood all over it.

Finally she gave up and sat back and put her shoes back on. Tears began welling up in her eyes, but none fell. A few silent sobs shook her body and she leaned back against the back seat. No one paid her any mind. Not even the men sitting in the backseat glanced back when she tried to escape.

Eventually, the van slowed and began rolling over bumpy ground. She limply pulled herself up and looked out the windows. They were now at an old shipyard area. Long rows of abandoned warehouses surrounded them on all sides, perfect for a hide out. She slowly slid back down. No one would even know to come looking for her body out here.

Finally the van came to a halt and the men began piling out. She remained where she was, wondering and hoping that if she kept quiet, the Joker would have forgotten about her. Luck was not on her side again. The door swung open and there stood the Joker. The first thing he looked at was the blood on the door then to her hands and knees.

"Trying to escape before we've had any fun?" He asked with a laugh then reached in and jerked her out. She stumbled to her feet and he turned her around. "So, how do we get rid of you now?"

It dawned in her mind that he already knew fully well how he was going to get of her. Her eyes widened and she found herself on her aching knees. "Please, don't kill me! I can help you!"

He raised an eyebrow at her and smirked at her desperate plea for mercy. "How could you help me?"

"Well, uh, I love to clean," she lied, trying to get her mind to find something she was actually good at. "I can cook. I'm a really good cook. You would love my food!"

"How about something helpful, hm?" He interrupted, becoming uninterested.

Her eyes darted around, her mind seemingly stuck on cooking. Finally, she blurted out, "I'm good with computers. I know how to hack into things. I can sharpen knives-"

"You know how to hack into bank systems?" He asked, interrupting again. Now she seemed to have caught his interest.

It seemed like it took her mind hours to catch hold of what he had just asked. The chance of life was just one word away. "I-I'm sure I can, yes."

He pursed his bright red lips to one side and looked up away from her. She followed his gaze to see a man standing to her left, pointing a gun at her. Her breath caught in her throat and she brought her eyes back up to the Joker. He looked back down, studying her with his piercing, dark eyes. "Thanks to the police, we didn't manage to get as much as we wanted. Think you can fix that?"

She bit her lip and nodded furiously. "Yes."

"For your sake, you'd better be right," he looked up and nodded towards the other man with the gun. The second man grabbed her up off her knees and began dragging her along towards the abandoned warehouse near the water's edge. The only sounds were her heels clacking on the broken concrete beneath her feet, the other man's shoes, and the quiet lapping of the water against the concrete wall.

He took her inside and through a messy lounge area. Trash littered the floor and tattered couch and chairs. The whole room smelled of stale food and sweat. She crinkled her nose as they passed through. They hurried down a small hall way and around a corner into an almost empty room. A tattered looking sheet was wadded up in one corner and a few pieces of trash were scattered around. A couple windows stood on the far wall and near them there was a single mirror.

"Here's your room," the man said grudgingly and pointed his gun into the room. He seemed angry that he had not been able to use it earlier.

She entered cautiously and glanced around. It was slightly chilly and the floorboards creaked under her feet. The door behind her slammed shut and she jumped and looked back. She watched it a moment before turning and walking to the windows. The cracked pavement extended all the way to where the building began. An old, iron tower stood a few feet away. Rust was clinging to it. Beyond that, several yards away, was another old shack. The one window she could see was missing a pane of glass.

She sighed and traced her finger along a crack in the window. She knew she was not in the clear yet. It had been years since she had hacked into anything and she had no idea if she still could. Technology had advanced; firewalls and other security systems now protected valuable information. She bit her lip, looked down at her knees, and winced. Numerous bits of gravel clung to the blood and dirt from the back of the van stuck in the scrapes. She looked up to the door and wondered if she were allowed to leave the room. Doubting it, she pulled off her shoes, letting her toes stretch.

Then an idea dawned on her. Gasping she grabbed up one of her shoes and darted to the door. She cracked it open and peered out into the hall. No one. As she hurried back to the window, she noticed the floor seemed to crack and pop more than it had earlier. One more glance over her shoulder to the door, she touched the pointy heel of her shoe to the window. She gripped it tighter, pulled back slightly, and touched it to it again. Sucking in her breath, she swung hard. The shoe bounced back off the glass, leaving a small chip in the pane.

Camille frowned at it and glanced back at the door. Silence. She took a couple steps back, aimed, and lunged forward while swinging the shoe. It bounced back again and she stumbled back a few steps. There was now a crack running from the middle up to the top right corner. Half of her was thrilled at the crack, but the other half was terrified she would be heard. Another quick glance out the door confirmed she was still alone.

Gulping, she took a running start and crashed her shoe into the edge of the window. She mentally cursed herself for her bad aim. Then the dreaded sound of footsteps reached her ears. Panicking, she threw the shoe on the floor next to the other one and pulled the blanket around her shoulders. A cockroach scurried out of one fold, but she barely noticed as she leaned casually against the cold wall.

The door opened and she looked up. There was the Joker, not looking entirely pleased. She gulped and forced herself not to look at the cracked window. His eyes went from her to the newly cracked window. He started walking in, slowly. She bit her lip and dropped her eyes, focusing on her own feet.

He bent down in front of her and picked up one of her shoes and held it up for examination. Finally he looked past it to her and she quickly looked away, completely terrified. "Trying to escape already, hm?"

Her eyes finally located the cockroach as it crawled down her leg, but it did not register. Her heart was pounding in her ears almost louder than in the bank.

At her silence, he jerked her right wrist forward, twisted it, and she yelped. Her eyes met his and she instantly felt herself shrinking back.

"You know," he began, his tongue darting over his lips. "It would be a shame to have to break your wrists before you get our money for us."

She felt herself either nod or begin trembling harder. Whichever it was, he grinned a crooked grin and let go. She jerked her wrist back and rubbed it, watching him carefully. He grabbed up her shoes and waved them at her tauntingly and left her alone.

For a few quiet moments, she just stood there, staring at the door. Her trembling finally subsided and her breaths returned to a normal pace. The pain in her locked knees came to the forefront of her mind and she slid down the wall so that she was seated. Everything was quiet except for the sound of a television droning on in a distant room.

She leaned her head back on the wall behind her and closed her eyes. Images of Jason flooded her mind and tears began to form in her eyes. He had dark, almost black, hair, blue eyes, and was tall. He was a successful lawyer and they had dated for almost two years now. He was so thoughtful and kind- a real gentleman in a world where that trait was fading. She had hoped to have married him by now, but he was slow in making important decisions whereas she rushed in. Now that might not ever happen. Her friends and family would worry about her for weeks. She would be either trapped in this room or dead. She figured it would be the latter. She had already seen too much, too many faces.

Quietly, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed

-------

Commissioner Gordon got out of his car and locked it behind him before hurrying into the mass of police cars and ambulances. His eyes scanned the crowd for the sheriff. Terrified men and women stood near the ambulances or close to a police officer. He had seen this sight many times before.

"Sheriff!" He called and picked up the pace at the sight of the man.

Sheriff Rodgers turned, but did not smile. His mouth was held in a grim line. "Yes, sir?"

"Fill me in on the details," Gordon ordered, now in front of the other man.

"Sir, two guards were killed, but no one else was hurt," he replied, then added bleakly, "It was the Joker. He has one hostage. We don't know if she's still alive as of now."

Gordon frowned and nodded absently. "Do we have a name?"

"Yes, sir, Camille Houghman," the sheriff answered.

"Family?"

"Her parents live about two hours north of here. Her boyfriend, Jason Myers, lives here in the city."

Gordon nodded again and looked around at the still frightened faces. "I'll contact Mr. Myers. See if you can find some kind of contact information for her parents."

"Yes, sir," the sheriff replied.

Gordon stepped away from the crowd and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He had had many occasion in the past where the younger man's assistance was needed. He dialed the number and waited for him to pick up. After several rings, he answered, "Jason Myers speaking."

"Jason, it's James Gordon," he said, shifting on his feet.

"Hey, how are you?" The other man asked, sounding pleased to hear from him. "Another case I need to take care of?"

Gordon smiled slightly. "Not this time. I have something to tell you about Camille."

"Is everything alright?" He asked, not sounding as pleased.

Gordon hesitated. "She's…she's been kidnapped."

There was a pause. "You're not serious."

"I hate to say it, but I am."

Another pause. "Who did it?"

"The Joker."

Jason hissed a curse to himself, but Gordon heard it. After a second the younger man asked, in a desperate voice, "What happened?"

"Apparently Joker was robbing Gotham Union and, according to what eyewitnesses say, he made her open the vault," Gordon said. "He used her as a shield from the police."

Another pause, this one longer. "Is she alive?"

Gordon bit his lip. "As of two hours ago, she was. I don't know about now."

"I'm coming down there," Jason replied quickly and the line went dead.

-------

A/N: Um, not much to say here. Reviews are always appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm back! Yeah! First off, I want to apologize for forgetting to mention my wonderful beta-reader in the first chapter. She helped me so much with this chapter and the last one. Many thanks to SirenoftheStorm for her helpful pointers, suggestions, and criticism!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight, but I own Camille, Jason, Hoshiko, and any other characters in the story that aren't in the movie.

Chapter 2

Camille's eyes suddenly snapped open. Her eyes scanned the room, trying to find something familiar. As soon as they landed on the cracked window, it all came flooding back. She sat up stiffly and smoothed the wrinkles out of her shirt. Her eyes felt swollen and her nose was stuffy. Completely miserable, she stood and stiffly walked across the cool floor to the window. The sun had begun its descent across the sky and she knew she had cried herself to sleep.

She licked her fingers and rubbed under her eyes and along her cheeks where she thought her mascara might have run. Part of her wondered why she even cared, but she could give it no answer. All she knew was that she did not want to appear as though she had been crying. Showing any kind of weakness in a situation like this would not be to her favor. When she had finished scrubbing her face, she took a look at her knees. They had stopped bleeding, but were still caked with blood and debris. There was nothing she could do about it now.

Footsteps coming towards her room reached her ears. She turned towards the door, strangely unafraid, and watched as it opened. An Asian man who looked a couple years younger than her stood in the doorway.

"Come on," he ordered and motioned down the hall.

She obediently followed. His pace was fast and she found it made her knees hurt to walk, but she remained quiet. He led her down another hall that she had not noticed at first. Towards the end of the hall on the left was an open door. He entered and walked over to a couple of other men near the back of the room, but she paused in the doorway. A few windows on the far wall illuminated the entire room, giving her a good view of it and everyone inside. There was a desk directly below the windows and another desk adjacent to the first one. On top of the second one was a computer and monitor that were already turned on. The Joker was leaning against the desk under the window and looked up when she paused.

"Ah, there she is!" He exclaimed in mock excitement. Camille entered the room hesitantly. He kicked a chair out from under a desk and shoved her down into it. She held in a yelp as her aching knees protested the sudden movement. He twisted the chair around and she noticed a computer with a wireless device idling on the desk. "You know what you're supposed to do."

Her nerves suddenly came to the surface and she gulped and fidgeted absentmindedly with the bottom of her skirt. "Can I, um, have some privacy? I can't work with people watching."

A couple of the men behind her chuckled at her comment. The Joker, on the other hand, found it hilarious.

"Leave you alone so you can contact the police?!"

She kept her eyes locked on the keyboard. "I wouldn't contact them."

His laughter subsided into a slow chuckle and he brought his mouth closer to her ear. "I've been in this business for a while, doll face. I know you better than you think."

A chill ran down her spine.

"Now get to work," he added darkly and something flicked into her peripheral vision from his right hand. She glanced over and froze. A knife. He leaned back against the desk next to hers and laughed like nothing was wrong. "This is in case you can't get it."

Gulping, she managed to tear her wide eyes away from the shiny blade. Her trembling fingers rushed over the keyboard as she first checked the capabilities of the computer. To the best of her knowledge everything would be fine, much to her relief.

"What bank do you want it from?" She asked quietly, still watching the screen.

"Yours," he answered without pausing to think. "We have some, ah, unfinished business there." With that, he laughed again, obviously enjoying himself.

She entered the website link to her bank and while it was loading, she downloaded some hacking software that she thought would work for the job. She had downloaded hacking programs from the site years ago when she was an active hacker. After it had successfully downloaded and installed, she opened the software and typed in the website URL in the provided area. It soon went to work, pulling up passwords along with their matching usernames.

She pulled up the bank's site again and went to log in. There was another pause while it loaded and she caught sight of the knife flicking in and out. The trembling began again, but she tried to hide it as she began entering a username and matching password. She hit enter and held her breath as it loaded the next page. One more area to fill out appeared: the bank's code that only employees knew. She typed it in and hit enter again.

"I'm in the system now," she said, not taking her eyes off the screen. "They haven't found me yet. Where do you want it transferred?"

A man behind her casually stepped forward and tossed a wadded up piece of paper onto the desk. She unfolded it and looked down at the numbers that had been hastily scribbled onto the sheet. An account number.

"How much do you want?" Camille asked, trying not to think about what might happen after all of this was over.

This time there was a pause before the Joker answered, "Half."

She typed in the account number and set about draining numerous accounts as quickly as possible before she was found. She felt horrible about taking so much money from so many innocent people, but she was not about to let her morals get her killed. After several minutes of putting money into the new account, she paused to see how much was in it compared to how much was left in her bank. Then her heart sank when she saw the new bank's address: Switzerland. She knew that country did not recognize United States laws and therefore any hope that the money might be tracked was pointless.

"Um…" she hesitated then bit her lip.

"Hm?" The Joker asked, sounding somewhat bored with the entire process.

"The new account is in a bank in Switzerland," she replied, pointing at the address on the screen. "Even if you have someone there to get the money, I highly doubt the bank would have that much in cash readily available. I'm going to have to transfer manageable amount of money into various banks that have branches in Gotham and then you can have someone pick it up."

"And I thought I'd have to have Hoshiko tell you what to do now!" He exclaimed with a snicker. Camille glanced up at him then over her shoulder at the three men behind her. From the sound of the name, she guessed it was the Asian man whom he was referring to.

Drawing her eyes back to the screen, she began to work on transferring the money back to America.

-------

"Commissioner, we've just received a report from Gotham Union Bank. Half of the money in its accounts was drained into a single account and is currently being transferred out of the bank."

Gordon looked up from his desk to see Officer Robert Marshall hurrying in with a few sheets of paper stapled together. He took the sheets and leafed through them quickly.

Jason looked up from the paper he had been filling out on Camille. "That's not how much they took earlier, is it?"

Gordon shook his head and flipped back to the second page. "No, it says this just happened a few minutes ago. Marshall, what bank is the new account in?"

"It's a bank in Switzerland," the other man answered promptly.

Gordon sighed and dropped the papers down onto his desk. Obviously, this was a thief who knew what he was doing. "Well, there's no way we can track the money now."

Jason glanced between the two men and asked, "You don't think it was Camille, do you?"

"It might have been," Marshall answered nodding towards the papers. "They could've forced her. Does she know how to hack into bank accounts and things like that?"

Jason scanned the messy desk in front of him, trying to remember if she had ever mentioned something about it. "No, I don't think so."

Gordon nodded and slid the papers aside. "We'll count that as a separate case for now. You said you had a recent picture of Ms. Houghman?"

"Yeah," Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He leafed through various credit cards until he found her picture. He handed it to the man across the desk and put the wallet back in his pocket. "Is there anything else I can do to help find her?"

Gordon shook his head and looked the picture over. "No, I'm afraid not. We've put out an APB and we have detectives working on the case. We'll find her."

Jason nodded and only hoped he was right. The Joker was a maniac who would not hesitate to kill on a whim. Jason had never sent him to jail before, but now he desperately wanted to. And he would do his best to make sure he was placed in a prison that could actually keep him locked up forever.

-------

Camille worked for most of the day, but did not get nearly finished with it because of the huge amount of money she had to work with. Finally, long after she had developed a headache from staring at the screen and a backache from sitting there so long, the Joker sighed and stepped over behind her to see what was taking so long.

"Are you almost done yet?" He asked, sounding slightly impatient.

"Well, there's a lot of money," she replied, glancing over her shoulder to see whether he was holding his knife or not, but she could not see his hands. She turned her attention back to the screen and continued, "I can't put too much in one bank or else they won't have enough cash on hand for your men to withdraw all of it."

There was a pause before the Joker grabbed her by the arm and jerked her to her feet. Her knees immediately began to hurt again.

"You're done for now," he said and shoved her towards the door. "We've got other things to do." Then, to the other men in the room, "This'll be the easiest bank job we'll ever pull, boys."

"And we don't even have to do anything," one of them said with a soft chuckle. She quickly shrank back into a corner.

"We'll turn her into a criminal yet," the Asian man, Hoshiko, added with a smirk in her direction. She was really not liking all the attention she was getting from them now.

"Take her back to her room," the Joker ordered and brushed past her as he walked out the door. She shrank back against the wall as he walked by, but Hoshiko grabbed her by her arm and pushed her along to her room.

Once there, a couple of hour slipped by without any interruptions. At first Camille paced around the room, trying to think up ways to escape. All the plans she could come up with involved coming face-to-face with the Joker or his men at one point. Eventually, she found a nail sticking out of the window pane and tried to pull it free in a desperate hope of using it to break the window, but it held fast and would not budge. After she gave up on the nail, she slouched down into a corner and tried to imagine she was somewhere else, anywhere else.

The sun set and the room got even colder and lonelier. She pulled the tattered blanket around herself and paced over the cold floor. When her feet got too cold, she sat down and tried to tuck them under her. The aching in her knees was a constant, dull throb now.

She let out a sigh and looked out the window. It was a cloudy night, the moon peeking out from behind thin patches of cloud cover. Suddenly a spot light hit the clouds and in the center of it was a dark bat. Her eyes widened in recognition and she rushed to the window. She pressed her face up to the cold glass and grinned. It was for her! She just knew it!

"Yes!" She suddenly screamed and jumped up and down in place. Almost instantly, there were footsteps coming down the hall. She whirled around and made a lunge for the light switch. If she could obstruct their view of it for a few minutes longer, the spotlight might go out before they ever saw it.

She flipped it on, sat down on the cold floor, and tried to act nonchalant. Her eyes were innocently scanning the ceiling when the door opened and there stood the Joker. The thought crossed her mind that she had somehow disturbed him by yelling and he was now going to rip out her voice box.

"You seem excited about something," he stated and, as if he could read her mind, flipped off the light switch.

Instantly, Camille's eyes darted towards the window. The signal was still there. The Joker apparently saw it too because he strode over to the window and looked out. He laughed. "The Batman's out tonight! This'll be fun."

He turned to her and tossed something onto the floor next to her. She instantly shrank back, clutching the scratchy covers closely as if they offered some kind of protection. She looked down at the dark, crumpled object and looked back up to him. "What is it?"

He laughed at her and knelt in front of her. "You're a woman and you don't recognize clothes when you see them? What's wrong with you?" He smacked the side of her head fairly lightly. "Hm?"

She tried to shrink into an even smaller ball. "Are they for me?"

That made him laugh yet again. He grabbed her chin and forced her face upwards. "You're too much fun, you know that? Now put them on."

He turned and walked back to the window. She looked between him and the clothes. Part of her wanted to ask if he meant to do it now, but most of her told her to do as told. Sure, he was amused by her now, but she did not know how long that would last.

Silently, hating every second of it, she stripped down and pulled on the new set of clothes as quickly as possible. It was a baggy shirt, a pair of pants, and oversized shoes, probably from one of his men. She knew just by looking at him that his clothes would be too big for her. When she got done and was just awkwardly waiting, he strode towards her, eyeing something. "You don't look like a man with hair like that."

Almost instantly, she pulled her hair up into a little bun on the back of her head. Seemingly satisfied, he pulled out a roll of tape and put a strip over her mouth. Her eyes widened in horror. He was going to get rid of her.

She let out a muffled scream and lunged for the door. He grabbed her around the waist and jerked her back. She tried to kick back at him and successfully hit his shins a couple times. Suddenly, before she knew it, he had her pinned against the wall with a knife to her throat. She whimpered through the tape. She wanted to shut her eyes, but the intensity in his kept them open.

"Unless you want to die now, you'll behave for me," he stated darkly, no hint of a smile on his face except for the curving scars. "Got it?"

She nodded, trembling all over. He stepped back and she leaned up against the wall. Her knees felt weak, like they would not hold her up. He pulled out a clown mask and tossed it at her. She managed to catch it as he shoved her towards the door.

Outside at the van were several henchmen. All of them wore clown masks. Camille warily eyed them and pulled her mask on as well. The eye holes were large enough to see clearly through, but she felt half blind without her peripheral vision. Every chuckle or noise from the other men made her jerk around to see what was going on. The fear that one of them was going to shoot her while she could not see was a constant presence in her mind.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into the very back of the van. She plopped down in the familiar trunk and the doors slammed shut behind her. She hauled herself to her knees and watched as the rest of the men piled into the other seats. They all seemed occupied with loading their guns with ammunition or making sure their knives were in order.

The thought crossed her mind that possibly this was not all a ploy to get rid of her. Maybe they were doing something else and needed her to blend in. A robbery, maybe? She sat back down and tried the door. Locked again. She could see the smears of blood on the window she had left earlier. Climbing back up on her knees, she looked out the front window again. The van was moving now, almost out of the abandoned warehouse area. She watched closely, determined to remember the way so that if she were rescued she could lead the police to their hideout. Suddenly, one of the men in front of her turned around. He raised the butt of his gun in the air. "Mind your own business!"

The gun rammed itself against her head and she blacked out.

-------

Commissioner Gordon watched without really seeing as the steam rolled up off his cup of coffee and faded into the cold night air. Part of him wished they could build a switch for the Bat-signal somewhere inside the building, but until that happened he would be forced to come up onto the roof of the police department and turn it on himself. Shoving his cold hands into his pockets, he turned back to the spotlight and looked up to where the signal touched the clouds. The dark bat rode over the moving clouds monotonously, patiently waiting until the man it signaled appeared.

"Is he ever going to come?" Jason asked impatiently, setting his cup of coffee down on the ledge of the building.

Gordon eyed the sky again. "He'll come."

"When?" The other man snapped.

"Is now a bad time?" Came a gravelly voice from the shadows. Both men turned to see a dark figure slowly approaching.

"Now's perfect," Gordon answered and turned off the signal. "We have a kidnapping on our hands."

"The Joker?" Batman asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Yeah, he took my girlfriend," Jason replied.

"What's her name?" He asked.

"Camille Houghman," he answered, reached into his back pocket, and pulled out his wallet as he continued, "She's twenty-six, has dark brown hair and green eyes, and is average height." He paused as he searched in his wallet for a moment. "I was going to give you a picture of her, but I forgot already gave it to Commissioner Gordon."

Chuckling, Gordon fished around in his coat pocket, retrieved a picture, and handed it to Batman. "Here you go. I made copies."

Batman took it, studied it for a moment, then folded it up and put it in one of the pockets on his belt.

"I'll find him," he said. "And I'll get her back. Alive."

"You're the only one who can," Gordon stated with a small, ironic smile.

-------

Camille slowly opened her eyes. The side of her head throbbed. Her vision blurred slightly before focusing on the object in front of her. She was not sure what had happened until it registered in her mind where she was. Groaning, she pulled herself up and looked out the front of the van. She was alone. Freedom was only a few feet away.

Instantly, she was on her feet, climbing over and then around the rows of seats. She dropped down into the driver's seat and began searching for keys. She pulled down the visor, but there was nothing. Cup holders were empty, the dash full of scrap paper, no sign of keys. She threw open the door, got out, and crouched down. She jerked off the mask and duct tape and tossed them both back into the van. Softly shutting the van door, she scurried to the next car in the sparse group on the parking deck.

She ducked behind it and the poked her head out to check for signs of the Joker. When she was sure the coast was clear, she ran to the next car and repeated the process. Her heart was pounding in her ears from the excitement of escaping and her fear of being caught. She finally reached the last car, which was several yards from the down ramp. Almost as soon as she was getting ready to dash around the corner, there was an explosion and gunfire.

Camille ducked and peered out from around the front of the car. Several men in clown masks were running out, shooting back the way they had come. Her breath caught in her throat as one opened the driver's door and shouted, "Hey, the girl's gone!"

"Find her!" Another replied and there was a scramble around the van and that general area to try to find her.

Camille gulped back her fear and scooted close to the edge of the level and hung her legs over. The drop was around ten feet to the car's roof below and heights had always made her nervous.

"Here she is!" One man shouted. His voice was close.

Camille looked back over her shoulder to see him running towards her. Instantly, she ducked under the guard rail and dropped down onto the roof of the car below. The car's alarm started blaring just as an explosion rocked the parking structure. Tires squealed on the level she had just dropped from.

She quickly jumped down off the car and took off running. Her tennis shoes slapping on the concrete beneath her feet sounded loud enough to give away her position to everyone in the entire parking deck. The van screeched around the corner and the motor revved as the driver pushed the gas pedal down farther. Another explosion echoed through the parking deck, and the van was closing in. There was more gunfire from above, or maybe behind; she could not tell. She leapt behind a car and the van rushed by. The brakes squealed as the vehicle skidded to a stop just around the corner.

Camille turned and began running back the way she came just as one of the black cars she had hid behind came screeching around the corner. She instantly stopped and began running back down the slope. Shots fired from behind her and bounced off the car beside her. She ducked behind a small car and just as she did, there was another explosion, this one even closer. The blast threw her and the car forward. She hit the concrete again first and sprang to her feet and began running again. She could feel the car hit the slope again and begin rolling downwards, chasing her.

She managed to dart around the corner just as the two cars that had been chasing her rolled into the concrete wall at the end of the parking deck. Almost instantly, a pair of arms wrapped around her and her feet left the ground.

"Let me go!" She screeched, trying to kick whoever was holding her. One man grabbed her feet and tied them together and another did the same to her hands. Another strip of duct tape was placed over her mouth and wrapped all the way around her head. She was then dumped into the back of the van again and the doors slammed shut behind her.

"Thought you could escape?" One man jeered at her from the seat in front of her. "Wait 'til the Joker gets hold of you."

She whimpered as the van began to move. They quickly wound their way out of the parking deck and onto the main street. Nausea at all the fast turns began to set in, but she held it together and was grateful for the straight stretch of the city streets. Once on them, the driver drove calmly so as not to attract attention. She could hear sirens whizzing by them as they rushed towards where the explosions were.

Suddenly there was a deep rumble and she could see a golden flash out the back windows. The Joker started cackling from the front seat and the rest of the men laughed along with him. Camille silently laid her head down on the floor and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would all end soon. Escape had failed and no one knew where the Joker's hideout was. And now she knew she was doomed to a slow demise when they got back.

The ride back to the warehouse was faster than she would have liked, but it was long enough for her to determine that she was not going down without a fight, as much as she would have liked to give up. Besides, the outcome of her struggle would not matter because she knew she would not survive the night. The van stopped in its usual place and the men clambered out. One opened the back door and grabbed her arms. Another grabbed her feet and they carried her back into the warehouse.

"What am I going to do with her?" she heard the Joker asking sarcastically in the distance, and laughing.

The two men carrying her dumped her on the floor of her room and cut the ropes from her hands and feet. She scrambled to her feet and stepped back, watching the knives. As soon as one was out of the room, she leapt onto the remaining man's back. He was so startled he dropped his knife. Quickly, she kicked the door shut and dropped to the floor. The door slammed open just as she grabbed the knife and drove it into the first man's shin. He yelled. Just as he did, she felt a piercing pain rush up her left leg. She looked down just in time to see the second man pulling his knife out of her thigh. She groaned through the tape and tried to kick at him with her other leg. Two big hands wrapped around hers and the knife was easily wrestled from her grip.

"What's the matter, Murray?" The second man asked with a smirk. "Almost got beat by a girl?"

Camille rolled over and was trying to scurry away when Murray kicked her in the stomach. Instantly, her breath left her lungs and she was sent flying about a foot away. Her vision blurred and she vaguely felt her own hands holding her aching stomach. She could see Murray's boots drawing closer, but lay helpless and hurting.

"You stupid little-" he continued and was about to kick her again.

"Hey!" The second man interrupted and stepped forward. "The Joker said he'd care of her, remember?"

Camille could not see the first man's face through his mask, but knew he was glaring down at her. Without another word, he jerked around and left. The second man followed close behind and slammed the door.

Camille watched the door a second after they left before shutting her eyes and clenching her teeth. She reached up and pulled the tape down off her mouth. Gasping, she sucked in as much air as she could until finally she caught her breath. She was trembling all over as the adrenaline's effects began to wear off. The seconds ticked by slowly until she wondered if it had been an hour yet. She took another deep breath and forced herself to sit up. Blood had drenched her pants around the wound and had soaked the floor underneath. Whimpering, she dragged herself up against the wall underneath the window.

It was then the door opened. Her eyes jerked up to see the Joker. Fear shot through her and the pain drifted into the background. She did not want to take her eyes off him for fear of what he might do.

He strolled towards her, flicking a knife blade in and out with his thumb. He made a tsking noise at her and knelt down in front of her. His eyes dropped down to her blood soaked pants and then to her face. "You didn't behave like you told me you would."

She gulped and knew he was not surprised by that fact. Absently, she drew her legs closer, afraid of being stabbed again.

"Do you know what happens to people who don't keep their promises to me?" He asked and licked his lips, a smile beginning to form at the thought. "Hm?"

"Y-you kill them?" She asked, still shaking.

"Now you're talking!" He said with a laugh. He brought the knife up to her face so that it touched her cheek. She turned her head and clenched her eyes shut. "You know what I've noticed about you?" The back side of the knife moved down along her jaw, not cutting, just touching her skin.

"What?" She asked, not daring to open her eyes.

"You're a fighter," he replied, moving the knife around to her chin. "You act all meek and terrified when you're threatened, but when you're forced in a corner…" he paused as if for dramatic emphasis, "you fight back. When you see the chance to escape, you take it." He put a little pressure on her chin and forced her to turn her head back to him. "I like that. You don't just roll over and accept things."

She opened her eyes timidly and met his. They were dark and dangerous. That in itself was nerve-racking, but it also looked like he was planning something, which made her even more nervous because she had no idea what. But beyond that, she could read no more and that struck a new chord of fear inside her.

"You're not going to kill me?"

He licked his lips. "Not yet. You're still useful. But, uh, next time you decide to try to escape, remember, I won't hesitate to slice you into little squares and feed you to the fish. And believe me, I'm a man of my word."

She gulped, the hair on the back of her neck starting to stand on end. "I understand."

He flashed her a twisted grin and stood. "Good."

She watched as he left and shut the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, she exhaled and looked back down at her leg. The fabric around the wound had grown darker. She glanced around for something to tie over it to staunch the bleeding and found the ratty, old blanket. Grabbing it, she glanced around and found the nail sticking out of the window frame. She looped part of the blanket over it and then yanked both ends down to tear the blanket in two. The material ripped easily because of its age and poor condition. The smaller of the two pieces she tied tightly around her wound and over her bloodstained pants.

Grimacing at the new onslaught of pain, she leaned her head back against the wall and tried to focus on something else. She had been given another chance. She had not expected that in the least and the turn of events surprised her. Then she remembered that she still had to get him the rest of the money he wanted.

There was a loud smacking sound in the other room and a few men shouted. She lowered her eyes and peered at the door. A few seconds passed and then the only sound to be heard was the television and muffled conversations.

She looked up at the ceiling, still hoping, praying, that she would be rescued soon. The police had told Batman about her, she was sure. That was probably why the signal had been lit. Jason had probably insisted on it. He loved her so much, yet she had never fully been able to let him in. It made her feel guilty, but some things were better left unsaid. Regardless, she knew he would not stop looking for her. He was the one person she could count on in this world. But now everything, her whole world, had turned upside down in a matter of minutes, and now she might never see the ones she loved again.

-------

"Rise and shine, dolly!"

Camille's eyes snapped open and she jumped up into a seated position. Instantly, pain shot up her left leg. She groaned and grabbed onto it. Suddenly, a newspaper dropped down onto her lap. She gave it a confused look before looking up at the man who dropped it.

"You made front page news," the Joker stated, obviously thinking it was humorous. "You're even above my two stories."

She looked back down at it. "Camille Houghman Kidnapped by the Joker" was plastered boldly on the front page. An enlarged picture of her was pasted below it. She looked back up at him dully. "Okay…?"

"Now, now, now," he said in a scolding tone and knelt down so he was level with her. "Where'd that fire go that was here yesterday?"

"It disappeared with my chances of escaping," she answered dryly, staring him in the eyes.

"Hm…" he frowned in disapproval and grabbed her head and twisted it from side to side as if looking for something. "It's gone." He let go, but added in a deeper voice. "You'd better find it. You're no fun without it and I don't keep things that bore me."

Her eyes widened. Find this so called "fire," or she was dead. She was not even sure what it was. With a chuckle to himself, he strode back out the door, leaving the newspaper sitting on her lap. Her eyes wandered down to it.

_Camille Houghman, age twenty-six, was kidnapped by the Joker yesterday from her job at Gotham Union Bank. She had been called in to work when fellow co-worker Joyce Raymond reported ill. It was around ten-thirty in the morning when the Joker and his men came in firing guns. Ray Hanson, who was only a few feet from Houghman, reported that the Joker seemed to take an interest in her from the beginning…_

Camille groaned and leaned her head against the wall. She did not know why she was even reading this. She had been there; it had happened to her. She glared down at the newspaper and, in a sudden rush of aggravation, threw it towards the middle of the room. It fell apart before it reached its destination, littering the floor with paper. The aggravation was mostly at herself. She had no idea how to find the fire that the Joker claimed she had.

Suddenly, her stomach rumbled. It just hit her how hungry she truly was. She had not been hungry yesterday because of the adrenaline, but this morning she was starved. As if on cue, the door opened and in stepped Hoshiko, carrying a small tray of food. He set it on the floor next to her. "I figured if the Joker still needed you, he needed you alive."

The sudden show of kindness, however small, removed the aggravation from her mind. She glanced down at the food and then up to him. This was by far the nicest thing that had happened to her since her arrival, even if he seemed reluctant to do it. "Thanks."

He muttered something to himself and left her alone. As soon as the door was shut, she pulled the tray closer and examined the food. A couple stale-looking pieces of bread with a slab of cheese in between and a plastic cup of tap water sat on the tray—not the most glamorous meal, but her stomach craved food. In the back of her mind, she wondered if it was poisoned, but none of the men would be dumb enough to poison her before their insane boss was finished with her.

She dug in. It was dry and stale, but it tasted wonderful to her. She ate it all, hardly leaving a single crumb. Right away she began to feel better and more alert. It was then she realized that she needed to find out if she could still walk. Carefully she rose to her feet and limped across the room. Her leg ached with every move, but it was a relief to discover that she could still use it. She had just hobbled back to the window when she heard footsteps in the hall and the door opened again. It was the Asian man again.

"It was good," Camille stated, hesitant to start a conversation, but thinking that this one was the nicest, if she could call any of them nice. "Thanks again." He gave her a funny look.

"Why would you thank me? You're the hostage. I'm just feeding you because the boss still needs you."

"I know," she answered, watching him pick up the tray and step back towards the door. "After what's happened to me, I'm glad to have something to be thankful for." He seemed unconvinced, but stepped out the door and motioned for her to come as well.

"Come on."

Camille quietly obeyed and limped out after him. He pointed her down the hall, towards the room where she had transferred money before. She silently entered alone and saw the Joker standing near the computer. He looked up from it when she walked through the door.

"Sit down."

She obeyed as quickly as she could and seated herself in front of the computer.

"Today, I want you to erase the files Arkham Asylum has on me," he stated from beside her. She quickly glanced up between him and then to the computer, wondering if he forgot about the money.

"It wouldn't do you any good. Everybody knows you're a criminal."

He grabbed the top of her head and twisted it around so she was looked up at him. "Is that some of the fire coming back?" She gulped, but did not look away. So this was the "fire". He liked it when she fought, when she did not just roll over.

"I've found it."

He laughed and let go of her head. "I knew you would eventually. Now get to work." She obeyed and went through the process of pulling up the site and finding passwords and usernames. While the hacking program was pulling up the information, the Joker decided to converse with her.

"How did someone like you learn to do this?"

Camille paused, unsure whether he was truly curious or just going to use it against her somehow later. "Um…" She hesitated and began typing something before pausing again. "When I was thirteen, my parents got our first computer and I got hooked on it. A year or so later I learned how to hack into police files so I could read reports on wanted criminals. After that, I started seeing where-all I could hack into. It felt great to be all-powerful, yet invisible at the same time. But then my parents finally caught me and banned me from the computer for months."

The Joker laughed to himself and stepped closer to watch over her shoulder. "No one ever thought it of you." She tried to peek back at him to see if he had the knife out again, but could not see. She continued working, hating that she could not see his hands.

"No, I guess not." Now she was in and located the files they had on the Joker. Quickly, she deleted them before she could be detected.

"That one too," the Joker pointed to another file a few lines down. She silently obeyed. "And that one." She hovered over to it and deleted it too. Then he laughed and almost shouted, "Delete them all!"

She opened her mouth to ask what the purpose in that was, but immediately shut it and went about deleting all the records in Arkham Asylum. Finally, when she had deleted the last file, the Joker broke out into almost hysterical laughter, causing her to flinch.

"Now delete the police files on me, dolly," he said from behind her after his laughing fit ended.

"I might not be able to get in," she replied nervously.

A shiny object flicked out into her vision on her right and she looked over. The knife. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Then you might not be as useful as I thought," he said into her left ear, causing a chill to run down her spine. Tearing her eyes from the knife, she pulled up Gotham's police site.

"I can do it."

"Attagirl!" He straightened and put the knife away. "It just takes a little persuasion with you sometimes."

He was making it sound like he had known her for a long time now, talking as if he really knew her. _Maybe he did and she had not known_. As she silently let the hacking program do its job, she tried to remind herself that he did not really know her. He was just trying to scare her, and it was working.

"How did your, ah, _parents_ find out about your little talent?" He asked during the wait. Camille dropped her eyes to the keyboard and held her hands together.

"I was showing off for my friends and they dared me to hack into a hospital and change someone's file to say that they died. I didn't get finished before my mother came in and caught me." He snickered to himself.

"You're not as good a girl as you want people to think, hmm?"

She began entering a password and username into the site. In the back of her mind, she went over all the things she had done in her life that could be considered "skeletons in the closet".

"There's just some things people are better off not knowing about me."

That seemed to catch his interest. "Such as…?" She shook her head, pulled up the Joker's file, and began deleting.

"While I was learning how to hack into different sites, my parents began fighting. By the time they took the computer away from me, it was an almost constant thing. During that time, they would send me and my younger sister to live with my mom's parents—sometimes for weeks on end. I felt so helpless; like my life was in total chaos. At fifteen I turned to anorexia and began cutting myself. I think I was doing it in order to have some kind of control over my life. I figured I could at least control what went into my body and how much pain I felt, you know?"

There was a beeping noise from the computer and she remembered she was supposed to be working. Leaning back in the chair, she said, "You're files are gone."

"Good, now delete the others," he ordered, not seeming to find as much humor in this crime as the one before.

Camille noticed, but quietly obeyed and set about deleting all the police files. This she hated doing more than anything, but she knew if she refused to he might get rid of her right then. For a moment, she wondered why he was having her do it separately. Did he want to make sure his file was gone first, or did he just want to talk to her more?

"So what happened after that, dolly?" He asked, still sounding interested as he moved to lean against the desk to her right.

"After my parents got a divorce, my mom, my sister, and I moved into a rental home," she continued, not sure why he was curious or why she was even telling him all of this when she had not mentioned any of it to Jason. Maybe because he was familiar with pain, whereas Jason's life and family were almost perfect. "After a few months there, I found I couldn't control the eating disorder anymore, so my mom got help for me. I continued cutting for a while after that until everything calmed down. Once things did, I began hacking again. I focused mainly on hurting my parents for what they did to me. I wanted them to know how chaos felt and what it was like to have no control. I only did petty things for a while, but when I turned sixteen I felt like that wasn't enough. So I took most of the money from my dad's bank account and put it into one I made and changed his work status to 'unemployed'. He started drinking a lot more after that. Then one night he was in a car accident and almost died. I got so scared. He could have _died_ because of me. That was when I stopped hacking for good."

"Until now," the Joker added. Camille could not help but smile at the irony.

"Yeah," she said and logged out of the site and sat back. "The files are gone."

"Good." No laugh. Nothing. He just hoisted her up by her arm and pushed her out the door.

-------

A/N: Alright, there you have it! Chapter two! I know we all know this, but let me repeat it since these things were mentioned in the story: cutting and eating disorders are serious things, so if you or someone you know does either, get some help. Talk to a trusted adult and don't think you're alone in whatever you're going through. Ok, so now that that's been said, thanks for reading! Reviews are always a nice way to show appreciation.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I apologize for taking so long to update! I have no excuse other than my own laziness, which really doesn't count. Anyway, thanks goes to SirenortheStorm for being such a wonderful beta!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight, but I own Camille, Jason, and Hoshiko.

Chapter 3

Robert Marshall burst into Commissioner Gordon's office, looking frantic. His light brown hair was tousled as if he had nervously been running his hand through it and his tall frame blocked most of the view behind him. Gordon barely glanced up from behind his computer before hurriedly typing something.

"Sir, all of our files-" Marshall began.

"I know, I know," Gordon interrupted, frantically working to transfer the remaining files to a backup disc. "Is Chavez working on it?"

"He's trying, but whoever is doing this is doing it very quickly," the other man replied, nervously fidgeting with his gun holster. "He's having a hard time keeping up."

The commissioner scowled then looked up at the other man. "The hacker will more than likely leave a digital fingerprint, so to speak. Get someone tracking it."

"Yes, sir." Marshall hurried back out the door.

Gordon's computer beeped several times and he looked back at it. All but a few of the files were gone and those were the ones Chavez had managed to save. He slammed his hand down on his desk in frustration. They had a hard copy of most of their files, but recently, they had changed to a new system of keeping all of the information on the computer. He mentally cursed those who had thought that that would be a good idea. This disaster would throw the station into chaos for weeks. The trials of the more recent criminals could not be held without the police records stating what they had done. He would have to try to find out whether the files they did have were up-to-date.

A minute or two later, Marshall appeared in the doorway again; this time he was holding a few sheets of paper.

"Sir, Chavez couldn't stop them, but he thinks we may have a chance to track them down if we act soon. He's on it right now."

"Good." Gordon removed his glasses and rubbed his temples. When he looked back up, he saw the other man was still standing there. "What else?"

"According to a report we just got from Arkham, something very similar happened there as well," the other man replied. He stepped forward and handed the sheets of paper to Gordon, who took them, put on his glasses again, and began scanning the first page. "It happened only a few minutes before the hacker deleted our files."

"Then it could very well be the same person," he muttered as he flipped to the second page.

Marshall paused a moment before adding, "It might be the same person who hacked into Gotham Union Bank and took the money yesterday."

Gordon sat back in his chair and looked up at him. "I suspect it was the Joker yesterday, or at least someone working for him. What makes you think it would be him now?"

"Because his was the first file to disappear," the man answered, and then added, "Gary Jordan was examining it when it was deleted."

Gordon furrowed his brows and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his messy desk. It might only be coincidence, but he was beginning to see a connection.

Reminding himself to keep from jumping to conclusions, he asked, "What about at Arkham?"

Motioning to the report, Marshall replied, "They said the Joker's file was the first to be deleted as well."

The answer brought newfound hope to Gordon, but he had to remain objective. He did not want to jump to conclusions, but it almost seemed too obvious. It was as if the perpetrator was trying to draw police suspicion to the Joker. But it might have also been the Joker's way of unashamedly telling them who had done it, which would not be out of the question.

"Why would he suddenly take an interest in cyber crimes?" He asked as if the other man might know.

Marshall gave a vague shrug. "It might have something to do with the woman he kidnapped yesterday."

"Camille Houghman," Gordon supplied. "Mr. Myers seemed to think she doesn't know how to hack, but being a hacker isn't something most people readily admit to." He paused and mulled over the thought. "Try to find out what you can about her, but it may be that he just got a new man for the job."

"Yes, sir," Marshall replied and quickly exited the room and shut the door behind him.

Gordon sighed and leaned back in his chair. He glanced out the windows to either side of his office door and saw a couple officers hurry by. He was exhausted today because he had gotten little sleep the night before. He had worked late and then been called in early because of another criminal case and after he had dealt with that, he had been trying to work on Camille's case. The whole situation made him nervous. They probably did not have much time left to find her, if she was even still alive. But Batman had promised to find her. That gave Gordon a little hope.

-------

Jason sat with his back facing his office door. The clock ticking on the wall next to the desk sounded almost like a drum as it ticked away the day and the normal office sounds seemed faded and distant in comparison. His mind had not been on his work at all, but instead on the time. When the work day was over, he planned to head down to the police station to see if there was anything he could do to help find Camille. He had been like this for most of the morning.

The wall that he was facing behind his desk was made entirely out of glass, giving him a perfect view of Gotham's streets three stories below. It was bustling and busy, as it always was, and even more so now because it was noon. His eyes absently scanned the street and people below, but his mind was on Camille. He wondered if she was all right and how much progress Batman and Gordon were making on her case. But he refused to wonder if she was still alive. He would not accept her death as a possible outcome.

He quickly glanced down at his wrist watch. It had been thirty minutes since he had called James Gordon to be updated on any progress. Gordon had gently advised him to continue working and said he would be updated at the first sign of any progress. That was much easier said than done and he had not gotten any work done since.

Jason shifted in his seat, rested his chin on his fist, and tried to turn his thoughts to happy memories of Camille. She had been living in Gotham for about three years before a mutual friend named Bryan, who had worked in the bank at the time, had decided to introduce them. Bryan had set them up on a blind date, which had made Jason nervous. His friend's taste in women was very different from Jason's own, but Bryan had been trying to set him up with a woman for a while. He had known that he could not make up excuses to avoid those dates forever.

Their first meeting had been at a nice restaurant in downtown Gotham. It was a fairly expensive restaurant, which had made him all the more reluctant to spend so much on a girl he had assumed would never see again. The reservations had been under his name and he had arrived before her. As he had sat down, he had glanced around the room. The lights of the chandeliers were dim and every table had a set of candles. He could hear violin music gently drifting across the room over various conversations. Just then, a maitre d' had approached the table and following him had been Camille.

A smile crossed Jason's lips as he remembered his first impression of her. She carried herself with confidence and strength, but something about the small smile on her lips gave her an approachable, friendly appearance. Her dress had been knee length in a deep red, and the wavy hair around her face had been pulled back and secured with a clip. He remembered thinking that surely the greeter was leading her to the wrong table. Bryan's taste in women was not nearly this good. Nevertheless, he had stood and extended his hand.

"Hi, I'm Jason."

She took it. "I'm Camille. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Jason replied, and they both sat.

For the longest time after that, he had scarcely been able to believe that she was actually the woman Bryan had set him up with. Surely the woman his friend had arranged for him to meet had gotten lost on the way and it was Camille who had stumbled upon him instead. It was not until a few weeks later, when he had visited Gotham Union and found her working there, that he knew for sure, but it made no difference. He had already decided that whether Camille was the woman he had been supposed to meet that night or not, he would continue dating her. Two months after their initial meeting, he had asked her to be his girlfriend.

That had been two years ago. Sighing, Jason brought his mind back to the present, and back the now constant worry and fear. He wondered if she had been frustrated with him because he had not proposed to her yet. It was not that he did not want to marry her; it was that he needed time to make important decisions. The more important the decision, the longer the amount of time he had to spend contemplating it; otherwise he became aggravated and overwhelmed. He remembered his father had been that way too. He had been considering asking her to marry him for a while now, but he had needed to be sure that was what he wanted. He regretted having waited so long now because he might never have the chance.

Jason's thoughts turned to what might be happening to Camille now. Maybe, at this very moment, Batman was rushing to her aid, or maybe Gordon had finally found the Joker's hideout and was sending his best men to get her. Or maybe the Joker was threatening her life at this very moment, or worse…

Suddenly there was a knock on his open door. Jason jumped and whirled his computer chair around to see Sean, his coworker, standing in the door. At Jason's startled reaction, Sean stepped in.

"Sorry to startle you," he said, looking apologetic.

"No, that's fine, I was about to…" Jason trailed off as he shuffled some papers around on his desk in an attempt to look busy.

"Any news?" The other man asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was a short, stocky man with thinning blonde hair.

Jason paused and gulped, determined not to let his voice crack when he spoke. "Not yet."

"I'm sorry, man," came the sincere reply. "But, hey, they'll find her soon!"

"Yeah, I hope so," he said, looking over at the picture of Camille that stood on the corner of his desk. He had taken it when they went to Vermont last autumn to see the leaves. They had been walking along a trail together when he suddenly pulled out the camera. She had looked over, began to laugh, and he snapped the picture. Even now, he could almost hear her laughter that day.

"Well, I _know_ so." Sean was trying to sound confident, but even then Jason could hear a hint of doubt in his voice. Sean did not believe she would be rescued. Not from the Joker. If it had been the mob that had kidnapped her, she might have a chance, but it was not the mob. She had been kidnapped by Gotham's most insane and volatile criminal and most who knew did not believe there was any hope for her. Just the thought made Jason's heart sink even further.

"Thanks," was all he could think to say as he lowered his eyes to his desk.

Sean paused and glanced over at the clock on the wall before saying, "Well, hey, I just came to let you know I'm heading out for my lunch break. You want to come?"

Jason miserably shook his head. "No thanks."

The other man paused again, giving his friend a pitying look. "Well, do you want me to bring you something back?"

He shook his head again and limply leaned back in his chair. "No, I'm not hungry."

Sean sighed, but did not press him. "Well, if you need anything or decide you want me to bring you something to eat, give me a call, okay?"

"All right," Jason gave his friend a pitiful attempt at a smile.

Sean pursed his thin lips and gave him something close to a smile before leaving him alone once again. Jason watched him leave and watched the doorway a moment longer before absentmindedly allowing his eyes to drift towards the wooden bookshelf against the wall to his right. Just then, he remembered his vow to put the Joker behind bars forever and quickly stood and grabbed several books from their shelves. He would find the harshest punishments available for the crimes the Joker had committed and he would make sure the judge who dealt with the case would not let him off lightly.

-------

Camille anxiously bit her lip as she watched Hoshiko attempt to transfer some money from the bank in Switzerland to one near Gotham. She had been instructed to teach him how to do it and they had been at it most of the afternoon. Now it was getting late in the evening. This whole situation made her realize how limited her time was. If the Joker had Hoshiko to get the money, she would no longer be needed unless he needed her to delete other important files somewhere in Gotham. She hoped he would still need her. She wanted this nightmare to end, but she wanted to live even more.

"No, don't click that!" she suddenly exclaimed, restraining herself from grabbing the mouse away from him.

"I know!" he replied, annoyed. She crossed her arms, but did not move from her position behind him.

"This is only your third time. I doubt you know what you're doing."

The Joker snickered to himself from where he leaned against the desk to the right. He had insisted on being there for two reasons: the first being that he wanted to make sure he was still getting his money, and the second being that he did not want Camille to try to hurt Hoshiko like she had Murray—who could barely walk now—the night before.

Hoshiko grumbled something to himself and paused to think what step was next.

"How much longer does he have before they notice him?" The Joker asked casually.

"They may already have," she answered, watching as Hoshiko clicked another link and then the money was transferred. Sighing and shifting her weight so her left leg did not hurt quite as badly, she added, "You've got to be quick and it takes a while to get to where you can do it fast and correctly."

"A few hundred more times and you'll be as fast as _Millie_!" The Joker stated with a laugh, springing the new nickname on her. Camille snuck a glance at him. The fact that he was giving her a new nickname her might be a good thing, but coming from him she could never be sure.

Hoshiko leaned back and ran his hands through his jet black hair. "It's harder than it looks."

"Like I said, it takes a while to learn," she repeated. "Do it again."

"We don't have that kind of time," the Joker stated, stepping forward and swiftly jerking Hoshiko up out of the chair. The other man stumbled for a couple of steps before finding his balance and turning to face them. Then, to Camille, he said, "You've got thirty minutes before we have to leave."

Camille seated herself in the chair, deciding not to ask where they were going. She would find out soon enough anyway and knowing might only add to the dread she already felt. She worked quietly and quickly, a stark contrast to Hoshiko's attempts earlier. She was not able to transfer much money before the Joker decided it was time to go. She turned off the computer and followed Hoshiko into the main room where the other men were lounging around on dirty couches.

"Lets go!" the Joker called above the conversations that were taking place. Instantly, heads turned towards him and about half of the group stood and began grabbing weapons and masks. The Joker grabbed a mask from the top of the television, looked it over, and then shoved it into Camille's hands. "You're coming too." She gave him a confused look, but was hesitant to ask why. He seemed to already know what she was going to ask, because he added, "You, like most people in this town, are ignorant of how the world _really_ is. So I'm going to show you."

He grinned at her and headed towards the door. The rest of the men who were going on the mission as well followed him outside.

"You better go now if you want to stay on his good side," Hoshiko advised as he sat down on a tattered couch that had been pushed haphazardly against the wall she leaned on.

"You're not coming?" She asked, hating how nervous she sounded.

He glanced up at her, but did not reply. Camille pursed her lips and headed out the door. The rest of the group was piling into one van. A few were laughing and she wondered how this could bring anyone happiness. One man approached her and pulled out a pistol. Camille jumped and was about to turn and run when he held it out to her.

"Take it," he ordered. She hesitantly took it from his hands, wondering what kind of trick this was. "The boss says you'll need a gun. It's not loaded."

Camille adjusted her grip on the weapon. "Why do I need it?"

"Why do you think?" he exclaimed, looking at her as if she were an idiot. "You need to blend in with the rest of us."

He grabbed her by the arm, put a strip of duct tape over her mouth, and dragged her to the van. Instead of being shoved in the back again, she was allowed to sit on one of the seats with the rest of the group. She knew it was not because she had earned some mysterious respect among the men or that the Joker liked her more now. It was only because he had to present the illusion that these were all his men—not to tip anyone off that he had a hostage with him.

She found herself wedged between a couple men whose voices she did not recognize and once everyone was in, the vehicle started to move. She pulled on her mask and watched carefully as they wound their way through the city streets. Many of the places they passed were unfamiliar, but occasionally she spotted something that told her exactly where they were. From the landmarks she saw, she decided the hideout was located on the opposite side of downtown Gotham from where her apartment was—specifically near the Fishing District.

Much to her relief, they went straight through The Narrows without stopping and wound their way through midtown Gotham, where many of the streets were unfamiliar. She had known it was possible to live in a huge city like Gotham and not know where many of the streets led and this only confirmed it.

After several minutes of seemingly driving in circles, Camille had completely lost track of where they were. She would not put it past the driver to keep going around in circles to make sure she felt lost, though. Eventually, they pulled through the gates of a large, five story brick building. The lights that were on inside the building were much more noticeable in the fading twilight. A knot formed in her stomach as they came to a stop in front of the main entrance. This was Arkham Asylum. She had seen enough pictures in the newspapers to be able recognize the dreaded place.

The group piled out and dragged her along as well. When her feet touched the ground, she considered running, but thought better of it and waited nervously as the last couple of men clambered out of the van. Without a word, the Joker quickly led the group up the stairs and through the front door. The entrance hall was well lit and decorated in a Gothic style, which was in keeping with the extravagant staircase through the door ahead. It seemed strange to her that a place like this would be decorated in such a way, but she figured this room was probably the extent of that décor. It probably looked like a combination of a jail and asylum in the area where the mentally ill were kept.

Once inside, the first thing to assault Camille's senses was the smell. It smelled almost like a hospital, but there was also an odd, pungent odor somewhere in the background. She remembered the stories she had read in the newspapers about how Dr. Crane had brewed some kind of hallucinogenic drug in the asylum. More than likely, this was the remaining odor from it.

There was a yelp somewhere further in the building to her right and she whirled around towards the noise. She shifted her empty gun to her right hand as if it would offer some kind of protection as a bulky man in scrubs appeared in the doorway straight ahead. Instantly he froze and dropped the metal tray of medication he carried.

"N-not you!" He cried, stepping back.

"You don't look happy to see me!" The Joker exclaimed and easily grabbed the man by the back of his neck. "I told you I would be back, remember? This time I brought some _friends_ with me." He lifted a hand and made a motion over his shoulder. Several men rushed past him and further into the asylum. Camille remained where she was with two other men.

A woman screamed somewhere in the building, followed by several other screams. The Joker twisted the man around and forced him to walk through the doorway he had just come through and down a hall on the left. One man standing near Camille grabbed her by the arm and pulled her along at a fast pace in order to keep up. She could not hear him well, but the man who worked here seemed to be giving the Joker some kind of directions as they trekked through the building. As they continued on, her predictions about the décor were confirmed. The wallpaper had large pieces missing and torn strips hanging from the wall. Maybe the foyer was intended to put up some kind of front to the people who visited.

Soon, they came to a fairly small, empty room. On the far wall was a control system of some kind with a couple computers and monitors sitting on a large table. A tall filing cabinet sat against the wall just to their left. One window on the right wall let in the remaining light of the day. The walls were cracked in places and the faded light made the room look and feel depressing.

Without hesitation, the Joker forced his newest hostage to sit in the chair in front of the monitors. "Let out the guys with the worst records. I don't care who they are or what they've done."

The man shakily began clicking a few links and scanning over several different pages, but was not making any progress. After almost a minute without one release, the Joker asked in a bored tone, "You don't know how to do this, do you?"

The man visibly began shaking even harder. Gulping, he answered, "I-I'm only a nurse—sir. They never taught me how."

"Good thing I brought someone who does," the Joker replied without hesitating, pulled out a gun, and shot the man in the head. Camille squealed and jumped, but was not able to look away before she saw blood splatter on the wall next to him. She heard the body fall off of the chair before the Joker added in a tone that was terrifyingly calm and casual, "Come here, doll face." Gulping back the slight nausea she was beginning to feel, she obeyed and reluctantly sat in the chair. When she was seated, he continued, "Since all the files here are gone, let out who you can before the cops get here."

She nodded to let him know she heard and began working. The doors to the rooms were apparently activated by this system, so it was fairly easy for her to figure out how to open the doors from here. As she scrolled through the list of names, she recognized some from earlier in the day when she had deleted the records, but she still had no idea who these people were or what mental illness they were here for. She scanned the list of names for those who were in the maximum security cells and started releasing them on the assumption that they were the worst.

Behind her, she heard the two men near the door shuffle around anxiously and the Joker glanced out the window. Someone came running up the hall, stopped in the doorway, and said, "Hey, boss, it's working! A lot of them are out."

"Good," the Joker stated, turning towards the door. "Tell them to get away before the cops show up and go cause a little trouble for the Batman."

Camille did not pause as she continued opening cells all across the building, but she hated that she was making a distraction for her own rescuer. It was not like he knew where she was right now anyway, though. Suddenly something reached her ears and she paused and listened. Police sirens. The men behind her stopped moving and everything was silent. One of the men behind her cursed and they darted out into the hall. The Joker quickly grabbed her by the arm, jerked her to her feet, and pushed her along as well. They all retraced their steps towards the entrance hall, but a couple men wearing clown masks darted around the corner and stopped them.

"They're out front," another man exclaimed. The rest of their group came running from various directions.

"Good," the Joker repeated as if this was all going according to plan and fished out a small homemade detonator from his coat pocket. "Is the other van here?"

"Yeah, I parked it around back," came the reply from somewhere amongst the crowd.

"This is the police," an officer suddenly said into a loudspeaker. Camille leaned up against a wall and nervously gripped her gun. If there was gunfire, she had no way to defend herself, but when she paused to think about it she was not sure who to defend herself from—the Joker and his men, or the cops who would think she was a criminal. "Come out with your hands up and no one will get hurt."

The Joker pressed the button on the remote. Everything was quiet for a moment except a very faint beeping noise. Suddenly police officers started to shout. Camille could hear them scrambling to get away from something and then there was a loud explosion. The floor beneath her feet shook from the force of the blast. The group took off running back down the hall the way they had come. Someone grabbed Camille by the arm and dragged her along as well. It then dawned on her that it was their van that had exploded. Just the thought of having ridden around in a van that was rigged to explode made her knees feel weak.

They hurried through a maze of dingy hallways until they reached a large kitchen. The counters and many of the appliances were stainless steel, not at all in keeping with the rest of the asylum's décor. The cooking islands stretched horizontally across the room on their right and various pots and pans were stacked on top of them. There was a door on the opposite end of the long room, and through it Camille could see the open back door. They were almost to the end of the aisle beside the rows of cooking islands when a few police officers appeared in the back door.

"Freeze!" Several of them shouted and aimed their guns at them. The Joker's group darted behind various rows of stainless steel cooking islands, firing their guns as they went.

"Drop your weapons and no one will get hurt," one officer ordered. From the position of his voice, Camille could tell that they were hiding behind the row of islands next to the door. Quietly, she climbed into an empty space in the island and pressed up against the back of it as if it offered protection.

Suddenly, a couple of the Joker's men shot at the officers from behind the long island to her right. Almost instantly, the police returned fire. Camille covered her head with her arms as the deafening noise continued. In her mind, she imagined a stray bullet piercing the cooking island right where she was and killing her instantly. Several of the Joker's men began to retaliate. Then, as soon as it started, it was quiet. Slowly, Camille pulled her arms down and listened. There was a shuffling noise near the door where the police came in and she knew they were still alive.

"Come here," the Joker hissed at her. She obediently crawled out of the island to where he was a few feet away and nervously glanced down the aisle behind her. The Joker grabbed the gun out of her hands and began loading bullets into it, much to her surprise. She watched as he filled it, cocked it, and then handed it back. "I'm sure a girl like you has seen enough movies to know how to use it."

If her mouth had not been taped, she would have replied, but she merely nodded her head and clutched her loaded gun closely. Now she had a way to defend herself if someone started shooting at her.

"If you cooperate, no one will have to get hurt," an officer shouted, breaking the silence.

The Joker reached into one of his coat pockets and pulled out a small, metal can. He handed it to a man squatting next to him and mumbled something to him. The man shifted his weight onto his knees and jerked the pin out of the top. Immediately, greenish-gray smoke began shooting out of the top. The man coughed once and threw it to where the police were hiding. As soon as it landed with a clank, the police started shouting and coughing. The Joker and the rest of his men leapt up and began running for the door. Camille quickly followed, trying to hold her breath so she would not breathe in any of the ever-growing cloud of smoke.

Suddenly, a couple officers stumbled from the smoke and blocked the exit. Both looked surprised for a moment before aiming their guns at the oncoming group. One of the Joker's men shot the officer on the left in the leg. He fell to the floor, groaning and clutching his leg. The other officer shot into the crowd and hit one of the men. Two other officers rushed to their comrade's aid and drew their guns as well. The Joker and his group ducked behind the cooking islands again and began to shoot. Camille followed as well, trembling and just trying to hold onto her gun.

She glanced down to the other end of the aisle just in time to see a policeman falling to the floor, coughing from the smoke. The sudden movement scared her and she squeezed the trigger before she could realize what she was doing. The man yelled and clutched his shoulder. She watched as he looked in her direction, his face showing his obvious agony. Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet and began dragging her after them. She stumbled along until she caught her balance. The officers who had been shooting at them were dead, but she could not see their corpses through the thickening smoke.

The group hurried outside and into the waiting van. The driver spun the tires on the gravel as he pushed the gas pedal down hard. The van rushed by officers who were hurrying around back to help their comrades. At the sight of the van, the police began to shoot at them. Camille ducked down until she was sure they were past any danger and then looked back over her shoulder. The front door of Arkham had been blown off its hinges and the majority of the wall around it was completely black now with a few chunks missing here and there. The stairs, which were the closest object to where they had parked the van, were rubble. She looked around in the van and noticed one man was missing. She found that she was glad it had not been she who had been left behind, even though it would have meant rescue. She had aided in a bank robbery, hacked into federal files, freed criminals, and shot and wounded an officer. The punishment for those crimes, even though she had been coerced, would be severe. But what puzzled her was why she did not feel bad about shooting that man. Deep down she knew she should feel guilty, but she could not bring herself to regret it. In that moment, it seemed that the police were the bad guys and she was only doing what she was supposed to do.

The men around her were talking and even laughing at the officers and their attempts to stop them. Camille pulled off her mask and the tape and glanced around again. No one was paying her any attention. She looked down at the gun in her hands and was thankful she had it and that it was loaded. It made her feel less like the victim and in this situation where she was weak and vulnerable, it felt wonderful to have something that gave her some sort of protection. With another quick glance around the van, she carefully tucked it into the back of her pants and let her oversized shirt fall over it. As soon as she leaned back and felt the cool metal on her back, she began planning what she would do next. Maybe she would shoot out the window in her room and get away before they had time to react. That idea brought a momentary smile to her face until she remembered that she had never been that fast. But if she ever did escape, she would probably be punished for what she had done and the thought of spending a few years in prison was not appealing.

She rode in silence all the way back to the hide out. In a way, she felt like a part of the group, though she still wanted to escape. This thought did not bother her as badly as she supposed it would have a couple days ago. She knew this did not mean she was out of danger yet, but it also meant she was not nearly as afraid as she used to be.

When they got back to the warehouse, she followed the crowd of men inside without having to be dragged along. They all stopped in the main room, but she went on back to her room and shut the door behind her. It was becoming almost like a routine and if she did not go cooperatively, she would be taken back by force. She set clown mask in the corner and grimaced at it. She hated that she was forced to be a part of the Joker's team and do whatever he wanted her to do, but what bothered her most was that she was no longer feeling quite as bad about it. At first she was feeling guilty about stealing innocent people's money and now she could not bring herself to regret shooting the policeman. It felt like she no longer knew herself and that thought made her stomach twist in fear. In a way, it reminded her of how out of control she felt when her parents were getting divorced.

The door to her room opened and jerked her from her thoughts. She turned to see the Joker.

"Where's the gun?" He asked. The weapon against her back seemed to suddenly grow hot as her nerves began to rise.

"I dropped it back in the asylum," she lied and consciously turned her back away from him in case the weapon made a ridge in her clothes. He eyed her as he strode over and picked up the mask.

"I saw you use it."

Camille crossed her arms in an attempt to look calmer than she felt and said, "You thought I couldn't?"

"Oh, I knew you could if you were pushed far enough," he answered. "I know you well enough by now to know that, dolly. Everything you need to become a criminal is already there. All it takes is a _little push_."

"I'll never be like you," she stated, but felt uncertain as she spoke. The old Camille was not like him, but she did not know this new Camille—the one who could steal and shoot an officer and not feel regret.

"You're more like me than you want to admit," he replied and took a few steps closer to her. She took a few steps back. "You and I both love causing chaos and we're good at it. _I_ like it because I get to show people how the world really is. _You_ like it because it makes you feel in control of something—like when you shot that cop. You thought you could decide whether he lived or died, but you couldn't. If you had shot a couple inches closer to his neck, he'd be dead right now. But you didn't, did you? So really, it was only an accident that he lived. You have _no_ power over anything, doll face, and you don't want to admit it. You can't control what happens while you're here; you weren't able to control your life when your parents got divorced. There's no such thing as control. _Chaos_ is uncontrollable."

She could not think of anything to say to that as she stared into his dark eyes. If he was right and there was no such thing as control, what was left for her? It seemed like she had needed to control something her entire life and it felt like she had been able to until now. Surely he was wrong about that. He did not know everything—did he? But when she thought back on these past couple of days, almost everything he had said about her was true even though he had not known her for long. Maybe he was right about her after all. Maybe she truly was more like him than she had thought or cared to admit. If that was true and if she was ever rescued, what was going to happen to her? After experiencing all of this, there was no way life would ever seem normal again.

When she did not reply, the Joker smirked at her, turned, and headed for the door. Camille leaned back against the window and when she did, the gun thumped against the glass. The Joker stopped and her eyes widened as he slowly turned back towards her. Without a word, he strode back to her and jerked the gun out of her pants. She winced when it scraped her back, but remained silent. He paused a moment to examine the weapon before holding it up in front of her and waving it tauntingly.

"You know better than to lie to me," he stated and she gulped. He was even more terrifying with a loaded gun. Camille imagined him shooting her in the knee or something to punish her for lying to him. Or maybe he would shoot her just for the fun of it. She tried to think of something to say, but her mind was blank aside from the familiar fear. At her silence, he licked his lips and asked, "Got nothing to say for yourself? Hm?"

She opened her mouth and managed to stutter, "I-I'm sorry. I-"

"You're _sorry_?" the Joker exclaimed and laughed. She flinched. He grabbed her by the back of her head and pressed the end of the gun to her left temple. She completely froze except for the involuntary shaking. He would only have to pull the trigger and she would be dead. "Listen, doll face, _sorry_ doesn't cut it in the real world. It's fine back in your world where people try to get along and avoid the bad things in life, but that's not real. _This_ is real."

He pulled the trigger, the gun clicked, and she screamed. He stepped back and she stood leaning against the window, trying to catch her breath and realize what had happened. Snickering to himself at her response, he reached into his pocket and pulled out exactly five bullets—the ones from her gun. He had managed to unload it while she was preoccupied with the thoughts of what he would do to her once he found out she had lied to him.

"Next time you decide to lie to me it'll be loaded," he stated darkly and left her alone once again.

-------

When Jason received the phone call from Commissioner Gordon telling him that they had caught one of the Joker's men, Jason's heart had leapt at the hope of finding Camille. He had been eating supper when the call came, but immediately pulled on his coat and shoes and left his apartment. As he drove down to the police station, he tried not to speed so that he would not be pulled over. If the man they caught said anything, he wanted to be there to hear it. Once at the station, he hurried inside and told the portly man behind the front desk why he was there.

"Oh yeah, Commissioner Gordon's in the interrogation room, but I'll have someone take you back there," the man replied and glanced down the desk at an officer who was idly leaning against it. "Hey Gary, take Mr. Myers here back to the interrogation room."

Gary, a man with light brown hair and who looked to be in his early thirties, turned around and removed the slightly surprised look from his face. "Yes, sir. Right this way."

He motioned for Jason to follow and led him down a hallway to the left of the front desk. As Jason followed, he noticed that even though it was late in the day there were several phones ringing and police hurrying from one place to another. Crime in Gotham never slept. But that was why he had decided to become a lawyer. He wanted to show the criminals of this city that they did not rule it and could not get away with what they had done. Thankfully, he had never lost a loved one to the mob or any other criminal. _Until now_, he realized, then quickly corrected himself. Camille was not lost yet. Her kidnapping only strengthened his resolution to put as many criminals as possible behind bars, and he would start with the biggest of them all: the Joker.

Gary took him to the back of the station and opened a door for him. Jason stepped into a room with several other people. They were all looking through a two-way mirror into the interrogation room and glanced his way when he came in. Without a word, he joined the group and looked through the mirror as well. The interrogation room was well lit and it provided most of light for this room. There was one table and two men sitting across from each other. One was Gordon and he was asking questions, but the other man, who was tall, thin and had almost black hair, merely sat there and smiled.

"What was the Joker's plan for Arkham?" Gordon was asking. He was leaning forward in a casual position with his elbows on the table, but Jason knew he was on guard in case something happened.

The prisoner's smile grew bigger, but he did not say anything.

"How about the girl?" Gordon continued. "Is she alive?"

The man's eye twitched, but he remained silent.

"He's been like this for ten minutes now," one man whispered to another, but Jason heard him. "I don't think we'll get anything out of him."

As if that was the cue, Gordon sighed and replaced the handcuffs on the man. He pulled the prisoner to his feet and escorted him through the large metal door. As if they had been collectively holding their breath, everyone in the observation room sighed and began to walk out the door as well. Jason followed several paces behind the crowd, but stopped when he heard his name being called. He turned to see Gordon approaching.

He gave the older man the best smile he could and said, "No luck, I see."

"Come to my office," Gordon replied, motioning for him to follow. "We'll talk there."

His office was not too far down the hall. As they entered and Gordon turned on the lights, Jason noticed it was much messier than when he had last visited. Papers were strewn all over the desk and some had fallen off onto the floor. The blinds on the windows behind the desk were drawn as were the ones on the windows on the wall next to the door. The only way to see into the office was through the window on the door.

Shutting the door behind him, Gordon said, as if to excuse the mess, "I suppose you've heard about the hacker who wiped out all of our files."

Jason nodded and sat down in the hardback chair across the desk from Gordon. "Yeah, we usually hear about major crimes quickly."

Gordon took a seat in the chair behind his desk and absentmindedly tried to organize some of the papers. "This is only the beginning, I imagine. Once the other criminals hear about this, they'll take this opportunity to do anything they want because we don't have many files left. They could get away with homicide just because we don't have their fingerprints on file. We're trying to keep this as much of a secret as we can, but it's hard to keep something this big under wraps."

"I'll bet Arkham is having as much trouble as you are," he said, glancing at various headings on the sheets of paper.

Gordon let out a stiff laugh. "Probably even more. Without their files, they won't know how much of what medication to give without getting each person diagnosed all over again. And they don't only harbor the criminally insane, you know. There are plenty of innocents there too."

"Well, do you have any leads?" Jason asked.

"One, but it's probably a long shot," the older man replied, giving up the futile attempt to straighten his desk. "The first file in both places to be deleted was the Joker's. It might be his way of telling us who it was, but I don't know. I've had some of my best men trying to follow the data trail the hacker should have left, but they're having a hard time finding anything. Whoever did this obviously knew what they were doing. I doubt it was the Joker himself; he's never done this type of thing before. He probably hired someone for the job, or…"

Jason glanced up at the older man. "Or what?"

Gordon met his gaze, pursed his lips, then continued, "Or it might be Camille. Before you get upset, I'm not saying it is. All I'm saying is that we can't eliminate her as a possibility yet before we question her."

Jason felt his normally calm temper rising. He knew she had not done it and he did not like the fact that she was now being referred to as a possible criminal. In fact, he was positive she did not know how to hack, though they had never discussed it. Girls like her—good girls—did not do things like that, did not even know _how_ to do things like that. He was confident in his knowledge of her.

Before he replied, he took a second to calm himself down before saying, "I understand."

Gordon paused and studied the younger man for a moment. "Jason, I know you've been under a lot of stress lately. We all have. But we'll find her."

He nodded and gulped back the lump in his throat. He could not imagine living without her. She was his world.

Deciding the change the subject before he completely lost control of his emotions, he asked, "Do you know this guy you caught today?"

"Yeah, his name is Aaron West. The last time I saw him he had lighter hair and was a little heavier, but it's him," Gordon replied and picked up a picture of Aaron from underneath the mountain of paper and handed it to Jason. "The first time an officer brought him in was for grand theft auto, but since joining the Joker he's now wanted for second degree murder, larceny, burglary, and probably a few other things we don't know about."

Jason nodded to himself. It was not surprising that Aaron had committed worse crimes since becoming a part of the Joker's team. He could only hope that Camille did not get falsely accused just because she had been held captive for two days and possibly been forced to do a few things against her will.

Suddenly, one of the windows behind Gordon's desk was yanked open. Both men leapt to their feet as a figure dressed in black emerged from under the blinds.

Jason looked between both of them before exclaiming, "You invited Batman?"

Ignoring the comment, Batman turned to Gordon and said, "I heard you caught one of the Joker's men." The commissioner gave him a tight smile and nodded.

"Yeah, we got him a couple hours ago. The Joker was at Arkham and released several of the patients. We've been trying to recapture them ever since."

"Did he say anything?" the masked figure asked.

Shaking his head, Gordon replied, "I couldn't get a word out of him."

"Get him into the interrogation room," Batman ordered, stalking towards the office door. "I'll get him to talk."

Without another word, he strode out of the office, leaving the two men alone again. Someone in the hall let out a yelp of surprise and that was followed by several others. Smiling to himself and shaking his head, Gordon hurried out the door as well. Without being told what to do, Jason hurried to the observation room. If Batman was right and he could get the Joker's man to talk, Jason did not want to miss it.

He opened the door to the observation room and shut it behind him. As he made his way to the one-way mirror, he was grateful that the door had a window in it so as to allow light in, though the lights right outside were dim. He waited silently until a few moments later, the door to the interrogation room opened with a loud buzz. One person stepped in and then the door was shut behind him. Jason could hear him shuffling around and mumbling something to himself, but he could not make out what.

Suddenly the lights turned on, blinding him from the scene. He heard Gordon enter the observation room just as his eyes began to adjust to the light. Aaron suddenly yelped at the site of Batman and stumbled back. "Y-You!"

Batman, who stood calmly on the other end of the room, merely said, "Since you won't talk to Gordon, you'll talk to me."

Regaining his composure, Aaron said, "What makes you so sure?"

"I have a way of making criminals talk," he answered and began walking towards him. "Even your boss talked when I interrogated him."

That obviously made him more nervous. He gulped and pressed himself up against the door as if it would open. Reaching forward, Batman grabbed him by the front of his shirt and jerked him away from it.

"Where is he?" Batman practically yelled into his face. Aaron gulped and began shaking a little, but made no response. Growling to himself, Batman slammed the man up against the wall beside the door and repeated, "Where is he?"

Aaron coughed and gasped for breath before wheezing out, "You'd have to be stupid to squeal on a guy like that!"

"That's not the answer I'm looking for," Batman growled, pulled the man away from the wall, and slammed him into it again.

Aaron winced. "You don't know what he'd do to me if I said anything. I'd be better off rotting under this jail forever than to have him find me!"

"You don't know what I'll do to you if you don't say anything," came the dark reply.

"You can't do anything," the man replied with a bit more confidence than before. "You're one of _them_. You have to follow all these rules and do things the right way, but the Joker…he has no rules. I'm more afraid of him than I am of you."

Growling to himself, Batman pulled Aaron away from the wall and slammed his head into the glass. The man fell to the floor before trying to pitifully crawl away. Chasing after him, Batman crashed his fist into the side of Aaron's head and the man fell over onto his back and looked up in terror.

"I can't tell you about him, but I'll tell you about her!" Aaron pleaded, holding his hands up in front of him. Jason felt his heart begin to race.

"She's not the one I'm interested in," Batman stated and pulled his fist back.

"You should be!" Aaron exclaimed, wide eyed. "She's the one committing the crimes! She stole the money, she erased the files, she did it all! We thought she was lying when she said she could hack, but we were wrong."

At that, Jason felt his heart sink. It was true then. Camille was the hacker who had broken into the bank and the records for the Joker. He felt she should have told him about that, no matter how ashamed of it she might be. The fact that she had hid that part of her from him hurt.

"Is she still alive now?" Batman asked, still holding his fist where it could be seen.

"When they left Arkham, she was," Aaron answered, slowly propping himself up with one arm. "I don't know about now. Honest, I don't. The Joker might be tired of her by now, but I doubt it. He thinks she's fun."

"Fun?" Batman repeated as if he did not believe it. Jason felt a combination of fear and anger. What if that psychopath was beating or even raping her?

"You don't know the Joker," the man shook his head. "He thinks she's fun because she fights back." He paused, and then added, "She almost took out one of our guys last night!"

There was a soft tap on the door that led to the observation room. Both Jason and Gordon looked over to see an officer motioning for Gordon to come. The commissioner quietly exited and Jason turned back to the scene before him just as Batman said, "You never answered my first question, but you will now."

Aaron shook his head and scooted back again. "I can't. Not if I want to live—and I do!"

Batman drew his fist back and hit the man in the cheek again. "You'll tell me whether you want to or not!"

This time Aaron was able to scramble away to a corner. He pushed his now matted hair out of his sweaty face and turned to face the imposing figure before him. "I can't! I-"

Suddenly the door to the interrogation room buzzed and in stepped Gordon, holding the sheet of paper from the other officer. Batman turned, looking none too happy about the interruption. The commissioner looked excited, given the situation, as he said, "We have a lead."

-------

A/N: Thank you for reading! Again, I apologize for taking such a long time to update. I'll try to do better next time.


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